Right
by wavesketcher
Summary: *AU One Shot* Hurt from being cheated on, Bonnie impulsively downloads a dating app seeking a 1am hook-up. Things don't go quite as expected. "Bonnie was under no illusion that (Damon, 25) was magic, or 'the answer.' He was merely a warm body she could forget herself into."


He cheated. She was hurt. It was more a reflex than anything else; downloading the app, finding _that _picture. She didn't care to be modest – not anymore. Right or left. It was a simple enough formula and she _needed_ simple. A stranger's touch, desire, anything to rid the shame of him choosing someone else. She wanted to be enough for anyone, even if for just an hour. Maybe less, depending.

Bonnie flicked her fingers across the screen, right, right, right, right. _I'm crying_, she realised, _pathetic_. Another swipe and a boy that looked very much like Jeremy made her scowl. Left. Rage, not sadness. That's what she needed if she was going to do this.

It was 1am and the few decrepit stragglers desperate enough for a booty call looked nothing less than _slimy_. Still, Bonnie could do slimy, hell, even scaly, anything to silence the sickening blend of anger, betrayal and ugliness growling within her. Ted, 27 could tell her she was beautiful and for a fleeting moment, she'd believe him.

She scrolled through her messages, numb to the crude pick up lines. Here she was, shopping for a man to lie in her bed and leave once he, she, they, were satisfied. It both thrilled and disgusted her… tonight, though, she was hungry. He cheated and she was _hurt_.

**Yours or mine? **

Bonnie stared at the message, then at his picture. Damon, 25. _Presumptuous and… gorgeous. _She enlarged his profile and blew out a breath.

_Mine._

**What if I'm a serial killer?**

_My roommates are in. One of them does karate._

**Fun. They can join in. **

He looked like what Caroline would describe as a 'fuck-boy': sexy but fully aware, thus sending their attractiveness plummeting. It was only after she sent her address that it dawned on her that he really _could_ be a serial killer, or, at least, a cat-fish. She debated waking Klaus or Caroline but that would defeat her spontaneity. She was doing this for her, not Jeremy, not who the world decided her to be, the star student, the creative, the friend, the girlfriend. Bonnie was under no illusion that Damon was magic, or 'the answer.' He was merely a warm body she could forget herself into.

Fifteen minutes. He didn't live far, apparently. How she hadn't seen him around town before, she didn't know. _Probably is a catfish. Typed in hot brunette male and found some blue-eyed dude on Instagram. _And if he's not? Bonnie observed her reflection in the mirror, the oversized t-shirt shapeless and _definitely_ not what she'd describe as sexy. What even was the etiquette of dating app hook-ups? Did you offer them a drink or was it straight down to business, no small-talk? She yanked open her underwear drawer, scrambling for something red or lacey and finding nothing but some period pants and a faded sports bra. _Shit. _Caroline had an extensive selection of lingerie but was a light sleeper and would 100% wake up if she sifted through her drawers. Bonnie cursed again. _Why did I have to choose the best-looking guy on there!? _

A knock. Her heart drummed as she walked towards the door. _I can't do this. I can't do this. _The image of Jeremy kissing Ana flashed through her mind and - _yes, I have to_ \- Bonnie turned the handle.

Damon lifted his eyebrows, a smirk twisting his mouth upwards, playful, _seductive_. "You look terrified."

"Thanks."

His smirk deepened. "Like your t-shirt."

"I didn't have anything else."

"You could run and put on that nice little red dress."

Bonnie faltered.

"I'm joking. Are you going to invite me in?"

"Right. Sorry."

He followed her through the flat and into her bedroom. Damon blinked in the harsh light, "Nice room."

Now he was in her space she felt sick. Normal people cry with ice cream and their best friend… _she _invited a stranger over to sleep with her. His eyes scanned her frame and she heated up, her heart proliferating. He had an intense, undressing stare that made Bonnie shiver.

Damon twinkled. "I can't do a lot with you standing over there, Bonnie."

Feeling incredibly stupid in the baggy t-shirt and _oh fuck_, slippers, she still had her _slippers_ on, she stepped closer. Damon flipped the light switch and his words curled around her ear. "Everything's better in moonlight."

Bonnie could barely process a response before he was kissing her neck, slowly, gently, methodically taking her skin in his lips. It was pleasurable, extremely so, and she even sighed, the whisper of arousal swirling below.

"You _can_ touch me, you know," Damon breathed and Bonnie reddened. Her hands were wound in fists, stiff against her sides.

"Right."

She thought about touching his hair but it felt too intimate for a stranger, too affectionate. She settled for his torso, splaying her hands over the toned base beneath his t-shirt. Bonnie felt braver, Damon had lowered to her collar bone, and it was making her slightly dizzy. She slid her hand in his and pulled away, turning before she could discern his expression.

The bed was made, thankfully, and Bonnie slid her body onto the covers. Damon lifted an eyebrow, "As you wish."

He stretched above her, his hands by her head and she was forced to look at his eyes, cooled by the moon-lit bedroom. Bonnie willed herself to think of him, Jeremy, and the hurt crashed again, obliging her mouth to his. Damon's hands began to dance, teasing under her t-shirt.

"May I?"

Bonnie nodded and those blue eyes flickered. He pulled at the garment and inhaled, his lips finding new skin to explore. "You're beautiful."

Damon was, no doubt, skilled. And Bonnie _tried_, she tried so damn hard, to fall into his touches, guide him further but-

"Are you okay?" He frowned. "You're crying."

"It's fine." Bonnie waved her hand, "We can continue."

"Did _I _make you cry?"

"No."

Her words came out heavy, choked, and she turned her head into the pillow.

"Bonnie," Damon touched her shoulder, concern threaded in her name.

"You should probably go, I'm sorry."

She felt the bed shift, his weight lying next to her. "I'm not leaving you sobbing in your pillow," Damon paused, "Quite cliché actually."

Bonnie yanked her t-shirt down. "You came here for a sex and I can't," her voice halved, _pathetic_, "I can't do that right now."

"Correct, I _did_, but now I'm here, why don't we… talk?" He sounded so unsure that Bonnie tilted on the pillow to look at him. Damon's gaze was firmly fixed on the ceiling.

"Talk?"

"Hmhm. There's a reason you wanted sexy time at 1am. Why?"

"You really want to know?"

Damon shrugged, "Got nothing else to do."

_In terms of random confidants, I could do worse. _

"Fine. My boyfriend cheated on me. I broke up with him and felt so…."

"Unworthy, not enough, repulsive, hurt, angry," Damon finished dryly, "Yep, been there before."

There was a pause before Bonnie asked, "Is that why you're here?"

And Damon laughed, empty and pained. "The first time. Then I fell in love," he turned his head, "With the girl that's dating my brother."

"Ouch."

The man hummed. "We're a couple of sad fucks, aren't we Bonnie?"

His words hung limp around them. They stayed like that, lying parallel on her bed, sometimes sharing, sometimes listening, sometimes silent. It was oddly comforting, his unfamiliar company.

An hour later Damon animated, pushing up from the covers with a sigh. "As much as I'd love to stay talking to you all night, I think I should go."

Bonnie was surprised how quickly the words fell out of her mouth. "You don't have to."

His mouth twitched. "I didn't realise I was such a good conversationalist. Have I been doing hook-ups all wrong?"

It made her laugh, _he _did, in his facetious, arrogant way. Damon smiled, "Thanks for an unexpected night," he paused, "I'd be careful, by the way, inviting strangers into your home."

"Don't worry, it won't be happening again."

Damon's face assumed a strange expression, morphed by the lack of light. "Good."

He let himself out. Bonnie kicked her slippers off and unflapped the duvet. It smelt of him, like old pine, comforting. She glanced at her phone, the 20 unread messages from horny Mystic Falls' residents, and exited the app, preparing to delete. Then, Damon, 25; the message blinked:

**Tomorrow, 4pm. Wear something cute.**

_What?_

**A date. Duh.**

Bonnie responded with her cell number and, a single butterfly tumbling in her stomach, deactivated her account.

**A/N: A little impulsive one-shot for you all. Please do let me know what you think! I can't get enough of writing for these characters, clearly. **

**More chapters for 'I wonder why' and 'Stefan the Bamon Shipper' coming soon. **


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